[MATURE CONTENT]
"Arancini isn't the most fascinating thing on the menu, Coniglia." he commented, taking a long sip from his glass of stark red wine. "You clearly have no taste."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "And what is it on the menu that surpasses...
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Apparently, it had been Aunt Ines' idea—she offered that Taya and I be bridesmaids at the wedding. Seeing as it was going to be a small one, it prevented Clementine from inviting all her preppy friends.
As I sat in the fitting room, waiting on Clementine as she tried on different wedding dresses, bored out of my mind, I wanted to kill my mother for agreeing to this on my behalf.
At least I had Taya with me. And thankfully, Rachel too was good company. I wondered how on earth her and Clementine had bonded well enough to be close friends.
"Actually Rachel," I beckoned, and Rachel glanced over at me. "How long have you known Clementine?"
"A little over seventeen years." My mouth fell open, and Taya gasped, equally as baffled. "Yep, ever since Clementine moved to London, we've been inseparable."
When Clementine's parents got divorced, she moved with her mother to England for a fresh start. She was only four-years-old at the time, and had to grow up living in a word where her parents were separate for the greater portion of her childhood.
At least, however, Sergio and her mother were on good speaking terms, allowing for a healthy familial relationship, no matter how large the distance was when commuting between Milan and London. But the Mancini's had money, and such a task wasn't as much a task as the word pertains.
"So basically like Lex and Me."
"Oh quite the same, yes. She's really my sister more than anything." Rachel sighed, eyes fixed on the fitting rooms.
I smiled, fond of the statement. Taya nudged my arm, and when I looked at her she winked, half-smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. I nudged her back, kicking her leg gently this time and she clicked her tongue.
"Rachel!" Clementine yelled from behind the curtain. "Could you help me in here?"
"No." Rachel countered. "Come out, will you?"
I heard the bride groan loudly, not hooked on of the idea. Nonetheless, the curtains ripped open, and the room was invaded by silk and jaded fabric.
I took in the sight of her.
Her wedding dress could have been made for royalty, white satin silhouette fitting her perfectly. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, waving behind the open skin.
Rubbing my palms together, I exhaled deeply.
Taya shifted beside me, brushing my hair over my shoulder. "Tu es bon?"
I nodded, inhaling. "Qui."
"This is awful." She whined, going to stand on the podium. "I look like a cow." She rotated, looking at herself from behind.
"Clementine, you look spectacular in everything, let's get it on shall we?"
"I think it looks lovely." I whispered, and Clementine met my gaze in the mirror.
